


I am Death none can excel (I'll open the doors to heaven or hell)

by Emgirl16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bobby is cool tho, But he's gonna love Dean like a lot, Castiel is Awkward, Cause he's Bobby, Child Neglect, Dean sees ghost, Death is gonna f some angels up, Family Feels, Gen, Ghosts, Growing Up, He'll get better, He's not really abusive he's just bad with feelings, Humor, I threw in some ocs but they don't play a major part in the story, I'll tag more as they appear - Freeform, I'm being kinda upfront about it fam, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Kid Fic, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Past Lives, Protective Dean Winchester, Teenagers, i think, this is definitely destiel tho, we'll see, you will probably guess my twist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 15:08:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20117095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emgirl16/pseuds/Emgirl16
Summary: It’s a small mercy that John Winchester never notices.The man loves his boys, of that Dean is certain, but he doesn’t respond well to things he considers abnormal. To be perfectly honest, he ends up killing anything that is about 99.9 percent of the time.Or: Dean sees dead people and most of the time it’s about a billion times worse than what Haley Joel Osment portrayed it to be.





	I am Death none can excel (I'll open the doors to heaven or hell)

**Author's Note:**

> Ya ya'll probably know what's up with this, I'm very upfront.

The beginning of this tale is hard to point to.

Maybe it starts there at _the beginning_, where the edges of Death’s memories start to blur. Maybe it starts when Death locks himself away from the bickering infants (the angels and demons, respectfully) and the ants (humans) that plagued God’s playground. Maybe it starts when he decides to take a page out of the Big Man Upstairs’ book and sends a chunk of himself up to earth (not particularly caring where) if only to alleviate some of his constant boredom.

But, Dear Readers, Death soon decides that it starts on a cold November night in 1983.

Because that is the night when a very young Dean Winchester carries his baby brother out of a burning house with his mother pinned to the ceiling. It is also the night a part of him decides to wake.

A flap of a butterfly’s wings at just the right moment can cause a hurricane.

_This was much bigger than a flap._

It’s a small mercy that John Winchester never notices.

The man loves his boys, of that Dean is certain, but he doesn’t respond well to things he considers abnormal. To be perfectly honest, he ends up killing anything that is about 99.9 percent of the time.

Dean is a boy that had to learn to count his blessings a very long time ago, and he considers never making John choose between his son and his code a very big one.

(For a very long time, John is the monster in his nightmares. He spits words like _“Freak”_ and _“Abomination”_ until he finally sends a .44 through his skull.)

Sam does, because Dean is about 75 percent of everyone he spends time with and he’s young enough to be okay with it and smart enough not to say a word.

Dean sees dead people and most of the time it’s about a billion times worse than what Haley Joel Osment portrayed it to be.

It’s hard to concentrate in school when they’re on the road.

This is contributed to a lot of things.

One is Sammy. Dean is Sammy’s first and last defense monster/people wise, his caretaker, his tutor, and his best friend. Dean has to make sure he stays fed, clothed, and clean and if that means skipping a meal or staying up all night when their hunting something that targets kids, then he does it no if’s, and’s, or but’s.

Two would be his own hunter training. John was a marine and demands Marine level perfection out of his “soldier”. Sometimes this means doing push-ups until he passes out or running until he throws up. Sometimes this means memorizing the exorcism prayer when he supposed to be studying the Revolutionary War. He does it all without question because he can’t afford to have John look past the surface of his façade. Better to be his perfect soldier than the dead freak.

Three is the root of most of his problems and that would be all the damn dead people hanging around and the reapers locked in a constant battle with them.

There was one such instance when Dean was attempting to study in a library. It was fine until a reaper named Beth appeared to try once more to convince Ms. Gilbert, the school’s first librarian, to move on into the afterlife.

Maybe it would have been easier if Ms. Gilbert had friends or family waiting for her up above or was a staunch Christian. Unfortunately, Ms. Gilbert was an antisocial, agnostic, bookworm who put nothing before her dedication to her work at the school’s library. She died a premature death at 26 from a runaway horse and has been stationed at her former workplace since.

(She was extremely helpful in locating books for lost or overwhelmed students. More than one student claimed she found just the right book they needed for a big project. The times before google were often harsh and unforgiving.)

All this meant was that Beth and Ms. Gilbert were locked in an eternal battle, for Ms. Gilbert was all that was standing in the way of Beth’s much-coveted promotion.

(Beth almost had her in the ’50s, before they started all these nonsensical book burnings, much to Ms. Gilbert’s eternal horror.)

“_Please_.”

“No.”

“_Please_.”

“No.”

_“Pretty please!”_

“I’ve told you a thousand times, young lady.” Ms. Gilbert lectures her sternly, “I will not be going until my work here is done.”

“But that will never happen!” Beth practically wails.

“Then I’m afraid that promotion isn’t happening.” Ms. Gilbert replies calmly, preparing to walk away.

“_Please!_” Beth clutches at her sleeve

It is at that point that Dean reaches his limit.

“Hey!” he practically shouts. “I’m trying to study here!”

The two pause.

“_You can see us?_” They confusingly ask in synch.

“Yes, and I can hear you too!” He answers angrily. “I’ve been trying to read the same passage for 20 minutes, but I can’t focus over your bickering!”

“I’m sorry we interrupted you, young man.” Ms. Gilbert said apologetically.

“Sorry, kid.” Beth followed, looking like a dejected puppy.

“What are you two arguing about anyway?” Dean has gotten the gist by now but, after 20 minutes of accidentally eavesdropping, he’s become curious of the details.

“Well, I’m a reaper.” She waits for Dean to question her.

“I know what they are.” He answers, after an awkward silence.

“What, really?” Her eyes widen.

“Yep.” He motions for her to continue.

“Anyway, uh, I got this big assignment to convince Ms. Gilbert to move on. My boss said if I manage it I can become a district manager.” She briefly perks up at the thought. “But, Ms. Gilbert is stubborn.”

“What’s your side of things?” He looks at Ms. Gilbert.

“I have safely guided the students in this library for 103 years.” Ms. Gilbert states proudly. “Why should I leave a place where I’m serving a purpose to go collect dust in Heaven?”

“She has a point.” Dean nods and looks at Beth. “Why are you so obsessed with getting this promotion?”

“So I can see my daughter again.” Beth answers quietly. “District Managers get holiday time to visit our loved ones who made it to Heaven.”

“I never knew.” Ms. Gilbert responded gently. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“You never asked.” Beth answers, slightly embarrassed.

“I don’t really buy the whole ‘dedication to my job thing’.” Dean says suddenly, bringing their attention back to him. “What’s your real reason?” He studies Ms. Gilbert’s face closely.

“Uh, well…” Ms. Gilbert stutters out and looks at Beth. “I was never very close to anyone in life, mostly because of my work but also because…” She stops and takes a deep breath. “I desired women in a way that was considered abnormal.”

(What is not a well-known fact about Ms. Gilbert’s ghost, is the fact she often gives life-saving advice to the LGBT students that existed quietly within her school. She slipped them books about sexuality, left little notes of encouragement, and sometimes made any bullies trip over thin air.)

“What’s this got to do with me?” Beth asks when Ms. Gilbert looks at her blushing.

“In the time we’ve spent together, we’ve become friends.” Ms. Gilbert answers, moving closer. “And, after a while, I developed something of a crush on you.” Ms. Gilbert looks down for a moment. “I didn’t want to move on if it meant never seeing you again.”

Dean holds his breath and waited in silence because this was better than anything he’s seen on tv.

“Oh, Amanda!” Beth throws her arms around Ms. Gilbert. “I thought I was the only one!” She leans in and plants one right on Ms. Gilbert’s lips.

(Dean wasn’t crying, the dusty books were just making his allergies act up.)

“How can we ever thank you?” Ms. Gilbert asked Dean. “Who knows how long we would have danced around each other?”

“Um.” Dean blinks. “I guess you could give me a good book recommendation?”

“I got just the thing!” Ms. Gilbert snaps her fingers and a book appears on the table.

“That’s a good one.” Beth nods beside her.

They disappear in a bright flash of light that only Dean seems to notice.

“Slaughterhouse-Five?” He mumbles to himself. “I guess I’ll give it a chance.”

He reads it in two days.

“What are you doing?” Dean’s head popped up. His father stood there, silent and cold.

Dean hadn’t even heard him come in.

“I’m just reading?” Dean fidgets. He’s not sure why he’s nervous, he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

_Right?_

“Put that book away, Dean.” His father gruffly responds. “Find something useful to do.”

Sam watched, wide-eyed, from his side of the bed.

Dean swallows down his anger and replies, “Yes sir.”

John barely hears him as he makes his way into the small motel bathroom. The door slams shut.

They hear the slow, steady trickle of water as the shower starts.

Dean finds a bag of ammo and begins the process of making salt rounds.

“What about your book?” Sam dares to ask. Dean had been telling him about it and he really wanted to know the end.

“It was stupid anyway.” Dean smiles awkwardly.

He focuses on his task, careful to pay no mind to the wailing ghosts outside.

Motels and truck-stops always have the most ghosts. Sad and weeping, they roam the grounds like lost children. Some beg and yell at people, trying to get anyone to notice them. Names and dates and places echo around their grounds.

_“My name is Jane and he took me while I was walking home!”_

_“My name is Kate and he hid me in the river!”_

_“My name is Anne-”_

_“Tina-”_

_“Lindsey-”_

_“Pama-”_

_“My name is-”_

Dean doesn’t like to think about why they roam restlessly in places where not even the reapers care to roam. 

The one he hears now sounds young and scared.

_“Mommy?”_ She calls. _“I’m sorry I was bad!”_ The girl sobs and sobs. _“Please come back!”_ Dean’s chest hurts and his eyes sting. _“Please don’t let him hurt me again!”_

Dean abruptly picks up the remote and tosses it in Sam’s lap.

“Find us something good, Sammy.” He keeps his head down and fights the urge to look outside through the tiny gap in the curtains. Sam looks at him with knowing eyes and turns the volume up a bit higher than needed.

With the soothing sounds of Scooby-Doo playing in the background, Dean is able to drown out the tragedy that is haunting the parking lot.

Not all ghosts get their happy ending.


End file.
